


The Artist and the Deadline

by flying_grayson_girl



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Almost Sex, But not that much, Drabble, F/M, Tumblr Prompts, kinda nsfw, modern day AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 17:43:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4230975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flying_grayson_girl/pseuds/flying_grayson_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke Griffin is notoriously infamous for forgetting basic human needs when it comes to the week or so before her deadline. So it's not a huge surprise when it happens this time, although she's quite okay with Bellamy coming to her rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Artist and the Deadline

**I’m ~~a writer~~ an artist and when it gets close to my deadlines I neglect taking care of myself so you’ll pop in my house every so often to make sure I’m doing okay’ AU**

Clarke is going on nearly forty hours without sleep when a familiar knock sounds at her door.

It feels as if she swimming through sludge, slowly making progress until she finally manages to pull free. It’s almost worse than waking up after a good night’s rest and not wanting to leave the warmth of well-used blankets. But somehow she manages, getting up from her seat and walking away from her desk long enough to answer the door. And she can’t say she’s surprised when she finds one Bellamy Blake standing behind it.

“I’m perfectly fine,” She mutters without preamble, arm crossed as she tries her best to glare up at him. “I even fed myself tonight. So there’s nothing to worry about, Bellamy.”

“Well then it’s a good thing I’m here,” The dark haired man murmured, smug grin in place as he holds up a bag full of food, delicious smells wafting in her direction that are already making her stomach growl. “Clarke, it’s five o’ clock…Friday. You missed breakfast, lunch, and you’re about to miss dinner if I hadn’t shown up. So put down the children’s book and get your ass in the kitchen in five minutes.”

“There’s no way – I can’t have missed – are you sure?” Clarke stuttered, looking around until her eyes finally found the clock sitting atop her fireplace. “Okay, so I might have missed a few hours. But I’m fine, I promise Bell. You don’t need to baby me –“

“The foods on the table,” Bellamy interrupted, walking back into the living room with a smile. “I’m going run a bath for you and I expect you there in about twenty minutes. Now _eat,_ before I have to pick up the fork and feed you myself,” He only half joked, disappearing into her bedroom and the master bathroom within.

It wasn’t too long before Clarke resigned herself to her fate, wandering into the kitchen to find the food he’d left there. It was pad thai from her favorite restaurant, along with a chocolate chip cupcake from her favorite bakery around the corner. She’d savor that later; all she was really worried about was the thai food, which smelled especially delicious. It only took long enough for her to get a fork before she was finally digging in, scarfing it down with surprising enthusiasm; she hadn’t thought she was so hungry.

By the time she was finally done, she only barely remembered to put the cupcake somewhere safe (her friends had a bad habit of stealing her sweets) before she started to make her way to her bathroom. She could hear the creak of the faucet as he turned the water off and when she entered, she found him sitting on the edge of the ceramic tub, already missing his shirt.

He looked up as she waltzed in, nodding appreciatively at the fact that she even _complied_ ; more often than not, she fought him tooth and nail when she was fighting against a deadline. “I’ll have you know that the only reason I listened this time is because I finished the last five pages earlier than I expected,” She muttered, trying her best to ignore the combination of Bellamy’s smug smirk and abs as he approached her, hands reaching out to play with the hem of her shirt. “Don’t expect this to become normal, Blake.”

He chuckled, a rumbling deep in his chest as he finally reached her. His lips were at her ear, breath tickling and sending chills down her spine. “Sure Griffin. How about you just stop fighting it and get in the tub.”

Well, she couldn’t really argue with that, not when the steam seemed so inviting. So she nodded, a sign that Bellamy seemed to enjoy; he didn’t hesitate to undress her, each action deliberate and meant to entice a reaction out of her. But while she was trying her best, it was hard to play it off, especially when his hands seemed to skim deliberately close to her center as he tugged gently at her panties.

She stepped out of the black lace but didn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him remove her bra, making quick work of it before tossing it into the dirty clothes hamper. “You don't have to baby me. I can undress on my own,” she murmured, only partially serious. After all, he knew very well how this was affecting her and wouldn't believe a word otherwise.

His only reaction was on brow lifting, goading her before he finished undressing himself. Pants and briefs were gone, leaving him bare as the day he was born. “Are you going to keep on wasting time or are you going to join me?”

Bellamy had long found her weakness in the form of steaming hot baths, lounging with her back to his chest. Most times it tended to lull her to sleep; this time was definitely no exception. In fact, she only had to get sit down before she felt her eyelids growing heavy, fluttering shut before she caught herself and forced them open.

“You _can_ go to sleep, you know,” Bellamy’s voice whispered in her ear, once again sending chills down her spine despite the heated water tempting her to sleep. “I won't let you drown, Clarke.”

“I'm not afraid you drowning you dweeb,” she joked, laughing weakly. “I want to spend time with you and I’d like to be awake. I missed you during my self imposed exile. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate deadlines?”

He laughs, vibrations traveling through his chest and across her back, sending delicious chills down her spine and a rush of heat through her core. “You always say that, but you never do plan ahead and finish these things ahead of time. How was the kiddo this week?”

“Oh my god, Alex is such an understanding child,” Clarked murmured, grinning back up at him. “I told her my deadline was coming up and she called up Abby to spend the week with her and Kane. She’s been sending pictures of horseback riding through the old trails behind their house. She’s called a couple of times to make sure I know she’s alive, but she’s such an awesome kid…speaking of,” Clarke purred, turning in the tub until she was as close to straddling him as she could while still in the restricted space of the tub. “Alex won’t be back until Monday. If you’re not busy we could…have some fun.”

A chuckle, before his hands were at her waist and tracing to her spine, catching the area of her lower back that made her flush with heat. “Is that so? Well then how about we dry off and move this to the bed.”

“Who said we need the bed?” She mutters, shifting her hips just so until she feels him against her, already hard. It’s tempting to not just move that extra inch, feel him inside of her for the first time in _weeks_. But then she feels him lifting her, grabbing her by the thighs and barely giving her enough warning to wrap her legs around his waist.

Within moments, he’s out of the tub and putting her on the counter, leaving a trail of kisses down her neck while his hands roam. “Not enough friction. This works more.”

Clarke growls – a mix of need and want and lust that she finds impossible to hold in as his hands mercilessly tease her. “Shut up and fuck me already.”

“As you wish, princess.”

*The 100*

When they’re finished almost two hours later, Clarke tiredly notices the fact that Bellamy somehow managed to get them to her bed, where the sheets and comforter are wonderfully warm and lulling her to sleep. “When did we get here? I remember the counter –“

“To be honest, I don’t really remember. But you should go to sleep already; you’re exhausted,” Bellamy whispers, kissing her forehead before pulling the comforter up to their chins, hands sneaking around her waist and pulling her closer until she’s laying flush against his front. “I’ll stay in bed until you get some shut eye and then clean up some. Maybe I’ll make breakfast,” he muses, chuckling quietly when he realizes that she's already asleep. “Sleep well, princess.”


End file.
